


Et hoc transibit

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-26
Updated: 2006-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles about John Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Et hoc transibit

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoilers for "Shadow"

I. Mosquito bites

When he was in Vietnam, his Sergeant told him that the secret to getting through it was to remember one thing: _this, too, shall pass_.

It seemed to John that he had always been too hot, that his skin had always itched from mosquito bites, that he had always watched guys he'd joked with in the mess over breakfast die with scarlet blossoming from their chests before dinner. Because it was his Sergeant, John listened, but he didn't believe it. It had always been like this, and it always would be.

And the secret to getting through it was endurance.

 

II. Smoke

John sat on the hood of the car, holding Dean, who held Sammy. The smoke lingered raw and bitter in the back of his throat. In some part of his mind he was still upstairs in the nursery watching Mary burn, and the only thing that brought him back to reality was when Dean sneezed.

It seemed to John that he had always been cold except along his arm where it encircled his four-year son, that the lights of the emergency vehicles had been his only illumination, that Mary had never really been with them.

Perhaps he only dreamed her.

 

III. Poor aim

"Your aim was off. You need to practice more."

"I killed it, didn't I?" Dean argued.

"You got lucky. Improve your aim or you'll get yourself hurt."

Sammy's rages were yelling and sulking, noisy and hot, until it seemed like the car doors might burst open from the pressure of it.

They never stung as much as this: Dean's cool silence, respectful as always, and much too quiet. There was a hint of sarcasm is the way Dean ostentatiously took the knives out each night to practice.

The chill lasted two weeks by the calendar.

John counted it in years.

 

IV. Three days

It took less time than John expected for them to kill the werewolf pack. Sammy was surprised Dad suggested staying. Dean just shrugged. "'Bout time this family had a vacation."

For three days they killed nothing and John was any father camping with his kids.

Then John remembered.

He told the boys it was time to leave, his stomach hollow. Sammy grumbled. Dean grinned, and made a joke: _so little time, so many monsters to slay_.

John thought Dean might have believed his Sergeant, and that Sammy, like John, in his mind had somehow made the three days into eternity.

 

V. Temporary

He forced himself to keep his eyes ahead, because if his gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror, he'd see the Impala growing smaller.

The blood began to itch as it dried on his face.

His youngest was no longer lost, standing oblivious and unprotected while the dark things crept closer.

His eldest hadn't always looked so vulnerable. Maybe it was his eldest who was now lost.

It hadn't always been like this. John Winchester hadn't always hunted alone.

_Maybe_ was a treacherous word. _Someday_ was even worse. But maybe.

Maybe his Sergeant was right.

Belief was dangerous.

He kept driving.


End file.
